Right Onto Me
We headed straight in.
“Looks like we have to take a pretty big detour.”
I tapped my transit card, stepped inside, and rode the elevator straight to the platform. Whether the stairs had been long or the way back a little farther than expected, Gabi only showed up after a whole train had already come and gone.
“Ehehe, did you wait long? The elevator drops you right at the platform, but walking means you end up looping around. Normally a flight or two of stairs and you’re there.”
“This station’s especially bad for that, I guess. You could’ve just ridden the accessibility elevator with me.”
It was the kind of thing that left both of us a little sheepish, so I needled her on purpose.
“Mmm, I’m not elderly or anything, so hopping on feels kind of wrong.”
“So what? Just say you’re my guardian.”
“Uh… no, I can’t. Hehe. I’ve got this stubborn streak about stuff like that.”
“Sorry. It’s just nice seeing the Gabi I know.”
True to form, she scratched her head and demurred, exactly the way I remembered. I could be pretty rigid myself, but Gabi was the kind of person the word principled fit like a glove. Anything that even brushed against a moral line, she refused to cross—almost compulsively. Staying awake through class was the bare minimum. She turned in homework no one even checked, and when everyone else took shortcuts she stuck to the proper way alone. Once she’d gotten into university through early admission, no one would have said a word if she’d goofed off, slept through lectures, or cut class entirely—and still she showed up every single day. If Gabi ever became a teacher and someone asked whether she’d ever cut in line, cheated, or stolen anything as a kid, she could look them dead in the eye and say she never had. That was Gabi. Most people weren’t like that, of course. She wouldn’t even peek at the answer key in a workbook, let alone on a real test. Anything without a clear owner, she wouldn’t so much as touch. Those were the things that stuck in my memory, so who knew how many smaller ones there were.
The reason I’d been able to stay close to someone like that was simple: she never tried to force that rigid code onto me. Strict with herself, generous with everyone else.
“Train’s coming.”
I was sitting quietly in my wheelchair, lost in those old images of her, when the grown-up Gabi reflected in the platform’s smart window said it. Nothing had changed but the school uniform for street clothes. She was still exactly the same as before. And here I was, turned into this girl, looking so much smaller and shabbier. It hadn’t even been that many years. Barely a few months, and I’d become someone so unfamiliar to myself it was almost pitiful. The fact that Gabi hadn’t changed at all was a real comfort. It felt like she’d become my anchor.
“No seats.”
We waited for people to get off and boarded. It wasn’t a busy district, and it wasn’t rush hour, but the car was packed solid with nowhere to sit. I was already in a wheelchair, so I could just park myself in the corner accessibility space without seats and be done with it. Gabi was the problem. I was disabled and comfortable enough—there was no reason she should have to stand and wreck her legs just because her body worked fine.
“Gabi. Want to sit here?”
I patted my thighs. Gabi let out a disbelieving little laugh.
“If I sit there, people are going to think I’m bullying you.”
“You used to plop right down on me all the time…”
“Th-that was when you were a g—! I mean, when you were taller than most people! You’re a skinny little shrimp now. How am I supposed to sit on you?”
The way she caught herself mid-sentence, rewriting the words so no one would ever learn I’d been a boy—I couldn’t begin to say how warm that made my chest. Which only made me hate the idea of her standing the whole way even more.
“What’s wrong with sitting together? You’re not that heavy.”
“Not that heavy…? So I am heavy, then?”
“Oops.”
“Ooops?”
There was exactly one taboo you did not bring up in front of Gabi. Right before the college entrance exam, her weight had crept up just a little, and she’d stressed over it endlessly. Guys could at least kick a ball around in PE or play some basketball, put on a bit of muscle, keep their basal metabolism decent. Girls already moved less, and once they spent every waking hour planted in a chair studying, putting on weight was basically normal. Gabi had even cut off the coin karaoke sessions she used to go to with the other girls through sophomore year, locking herself into pure study mode for exam season. Somewhere in there she’d hit fifty kilos. To my eyes she’d been too thin before, and that weight had looked just right—but in Gabi’s mind, the stick-thin body from before exam prep was her golden era.
“Noel, come here. This won’t do. Right onto me.”
“Ugh—”
So Gabi delivered judgment without mercy. Even with me turned into a girl, principle-first Gabi’s principles hadn’t budged an inch. She slid her hands under my arms, scooped me up like a cat, and sat down behind me. Of course, once Gabi took the wheelchair seat, there was only one place left for me to go. Straight onto her lap.
“There. Now we’re both sitting, right?”
“Y-yeah, I guess.”
…It wasn’t exactly the picture I’d had in mind. Still, it meant Gabi didn’t have to stand anymore, so there was nothing to complain about. I was just the one left a little embarrassed. Being underneath didn’t bother me much. Being the one perched on top of Gabi, though, made me feel like a little kid sharing a seat with a grown-up. Her arms wrapped around my waist like a seatbelt, and I couldn’t quite ignore them. And—this was going to sound completely perverted—but her familiar scent, a little different from mine, was suddenly everywhere. One way or another, I was wound tight. Sitting there rigid as a board, I could only pray our stop would come soon.
Then from behind me came a long, low snore. I glanced back carefully. Gabi’s head had tipped all the way back, and she was out cold, snoring. Maybe the lunch had made her drowsy, or maybe she was just tired. Either way, it felt deeply unfair that I was sitting here on edge while she dozed in perfect comfort. Not that I could wake a sleeping person just to complain about it. In the end I didn’t say a word until we reached our neighborhood.
“Mnyah… mnyah. Ah, Noel’s lap was so comfy I completely dozed off.”
“What are you talking about. I’m the one who got held. You got sat on.”
“Ah, I mean you smell ridiculously cozy. What kind of formula do you drink? You’ve got this sweet scent. Hehe.”
“……”
I knew she was joking, but having someone comment on my body odor that bluntly was mortifying enough that I quietly turned my face away. If I hadn’t known, I could’ve answered casually—but I was perfectly aware that my body gave off that faintly sweet smell now. That was what made it so embarrassing.
Anyway, that little nap seemed to recharge her. Gabi stepped off the subway with fresh energy. Same as before: she took the stairs, I took the accessibility elevator. We didn’t head up to street level, though. The department store connected directly to the station, so we went straight in. Riding the elevator again toward the lingerie floor, Gabi asked me,
“Noel, what kind of underwear did you used to wear? Nylon? Cotton? Silk? Spandex?”
“Boxers.”
“……Huh?”
“Uh… briefs, boxers. That’s all I know.”
“Wait, what? You don’t even know what your own underwear is made of?”
I had zero knowledge on the subject, so I just nodded awkwardly. It wasn’t as if I’d ever had a wide circle of friends to chat about every random topic with, but on this one point I could speak with absolute certainty: guys did not buy their own underwear. Even the clothes they wore on the outside were usually whatever their mothers bought them. Sure, as kids you had no financial independence, so you wore what your parents got you. Friends who’d woken up to fashion early would apparently pester their parents for this or that—but me and the kids around me had always figured wearing what we already had was easiest. Most of the day was school uniform anyway, and after you got home you just wanted to be comfortable. Whether the clothes got worn out because we wore them so often, or whether worn-out clothes were simply more comfortable, I couldn’t say—but everyone I knew had been scolded at some point for ignoring the new stuff and sticking to the same old things. Girls, on the other hand, would apparently pool their allowance and go shopping. Gabi had done that too. I remembered her coming back from a study break once with clothes she’d bought with the other girls, asking if they looked good on her. What had I even said back then… Nothing mean, I was pretty sure. And watching how smoothly she was leading me now, I could safely guess she’d bought her own underwear too. Guys barely cared about clothes to begin with. Outerwear, maybe a little—but underwear never saw the light of day, so you wore whatever you were given. At most you split into team boxers or team briefs. Girls were a different story.
“Unbelievable. How can you be that indifferent? It’s the clothes that touch the most important parts of you, and you don’t even care? Well—okay, every part of the body is important, but still.”
“Mm…”
“Don’t worry. Big sis will teach you everything!”
Reassuring, sure. But looking at how fired up Gabi was, I had a sinking feeling this was going to be an exhausting stretch of time.